See, if Dean hadn't been so busy with Jo and that girl at the farm, maybe he would have been as restless as Sam and maybe they would have found things to do, monsters to hunt, people to save, etc. etc. the Winchester Way. And if they'd been doing that, Sam would not have found himself up against a supernatural creature with Leah at his back.

Not that Leah's... that is, yeah, she's blind, but... because he totally respects her and her past as a superhero, it's just...

Anyway, none of that is the point. Because it's Dean's fault.

But these complaints don't really pop up until later.

Right now, Sam is not cursing Dean. He's thanking him. Mentally thanking him, of course, because Dean's occupation with two women in separate cities keeps him both busy and distant. And this gave Sam plenty of freedom to spend with the female of his choice... without having to listen to Dean be rude and inappropriate.

And spending time with Leah, even just making fun of each others drink choices, was always nice.

So when they both admitted to being bored one day, and had been for several days, with no plans in the near future and no obligations they could think of, Sam found himself saying "Road trip?" and was delighted to hear her agreement.

Granted, he wasn't sure where to go or what to do and, on second thought, wondered if being in a car for an extended period of time was like torture to a blind person. But by that point, Leah had already agreed and he'd been half-packed. They could always come back early.

So there's Sam and there's Leah and there's the Porsche around them, zooming along the road and occasionally bouncing over potholes. And worries or not, the driver of the car looks very content.

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Kansas is the only place left in the world where that's so. Everywhere else in the world is pretty much a war zone these days, but life really hasn't changed that much in smalltown Kansas.

Smallville's a bit bigger these days, with a lot more refugees than ever used to come through, but the bar in town is pretty much the same as it ever was.

Just a small room, smelling of cigarettes and beer. Usually populated with between three and ten men, mostly over sixty, talking about the latest events on their farms and sometimes the football. The barman is older than the lot of them, small and wiry and cheerful. (He's named Tom ... of course.) Lots of strangers come and go, of course, and there's plenty of gossip about what's been done to the old Kent place, with its hospital and cruise ship and castle.

The only concession Tom's made to the increased business since the apocalypse is to hire a new girl to help keep up with the drink orders. She's cheerful and sassy, gets on well with the regulars and always seems friendly to everyone. And since she started working, nobody's managed to steal from the place, and there've been almost no fights.

Tom puts that down to her cheerful smile. At least, out loud. He figures it's probably best for their working relationship that way.

It's early evening, and the sun's setting over the cornfields. Anyone want a drink?

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Winter may still think it is dragging itself out, and it may have these ideas about how it's going to stay cold and crisp, but Steph knows better.

The sky is blue today and there's a hint of warmth in the sun and that means it is properly spring and therefore nobody can complain if she stretches out on a lawn chair in the lawn with a book and basks a little in what sunshine there is.

(wearing long sleeves, because she's not insane and doesn't plan to die of hypothermia either.)

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No, really. See, someone looted (Dinah and Zinda) a factory's worth of liquid soap and sent vast amounts to the farm. Someone else (Steph) knew where to get glycerol and what happens when you add water, liquid siap and glyercol together. And someone else (Sokka) fashioned a bunch of wands of various sizes.

Although, actually, the tennis racket is Loo's favourite.

Mel, Loo and Hana are all out on the grass between bunker and farmhouse with a huge bucket of bubble mix, making a moderate mess.